


chili sauce

by salipawpaw



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Baking, Cooking, Fluff and Humor, Locker Room, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Public Display of Affection, Scheming, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Suspension, from school, haha get it bc chili sauce, it's a lil spicy, seungjin if you squint, you will absolutely feel it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 03:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17931569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salipawpaw/pseuds/salipawpaw
Summary: This is not a love story. Or, well, it’s not supposed to be. It’s a simple thing, really—a simple deal. It goes like this: Han Jisung seduces Lee Minho into drinking an entire bottle of chili sauce, and Hwang Hyunjin will be his date to Homecoming.No one thinks Jisung can do it, of course, but that’s exactly why Jisung wants to.-Or, a series of unfortunate events wherein Jisung fails spectacularly at fulfilling his objective, and maybe grows a giant gay crush on Lee Minho along the way.





	chili sauce

**Author's Note:**

> i blame svt for getting chili stuck in my head the whole day, they should take responsibility
> 
> wrote this in like 5 hours it's 2:45am and im half dead. what's schoolwork?
> 
> edit: end notes

This is not a love story. Or, well, it’s not supposed to be. It’s a simple thing, really—a simple deal. It goes like this: Han Jisung seduces Lee Minho into drinking an entire bottle of chili sauce, and Hwang Hyunjin will be his date to Homecoming. It’s more a pride thing than actually wanting Hyunjin to date him. _Even a street rat has more chance with me than you_ , Hyunjin told him.

No one thinks Jisung can do it, of course, but that’s exactly why Jisung wants to.

“You’ll never manage,” their friend Seungmin tells him as they pretend to study in Hyunjin’s bedroom one day. “Honestly, you should just give up.”

“Don’t you believe in love?” Jisung sighs as he looks Seungmin in the eye. Seungmin only gets up and leaves. Hyunjin, squinting up at Jisung from his place on Jisung’s lap, gives Jisung a disapproving look.

“Love, my ass. It doesn’t matter that you’re twitter mutuals,” he says. “Sungie, you lost your chance with him when you ruined his Gucci sweater in eighth grade.”

“He’s a _private_ account,” Jisung retorts. “And that was completely on accident!”

“It was a _Gucci_ sweater,” Hyunjin says, “that you spilled _chili sauce_ on.”

Jisung pouts. “If I can make it spill all over his shirt, then I can make him swallow it, too.”

“That sounds so wrong.” Hyunjin grimaces. “Aren’t you worried that you’ll _actually_ ruin your chances this time?”

“I don’t have a crush on him anymore,” Jisung answers. “Besides, he has… Chan-hyung…”

Seungmin comes back inside, a glass of apple juice in hand. He sips it as he stares at Jisung judgmentally. “You’re such a dumbass. They broke up last year.”

“Shut up, Chan-hyung still talks about him sometimes,” Jisung murmurs.

“What’s Woojin-hyung, then, chopped liver?” Hyunjin brings his hands up into Jisung’s hair. “I still don’t understand how it hasn’t sunk in for you that they’re dating now.”

“I _know_ that!” Jisung pouts. “Chan-hyung just talks about Minho-hyung’s dancing a lot.”

“He talks about Felix’s dancing, too,” Hyunjin counters. “And mine. And Seungminnie’s vocals. And Woojin-hyung’s vocals. And your rapping, and Changbin-hyung’s rapping, and Jeongin’s everything—“

“Slow down, Jinnie, Jisung only has one brain cell,” warns Seungmin. “How, exactly, do you plan on doing this, Sungie?”

“I have my ways,” bluffs Jisung, and Seungmin refuses to talk to him after that.

The first plan is simple, as everything always is with Jisung. He breaks into the boys’ locker room while Minho is out for dance practice, and he sneakily swaps Minho’s sports drink for a full bottle of chili sauce. Yeah, that’s right. He doesn’t even need to use seduction.

(“This isn’t going to work,” Seungmin tells him at lunch, but Jisung doesn’t need that kind of negativity in his life.)

Jisung, hearing multiple footsteps approach the locker room, immediately dives into an unused locker to hide. He watches Minho through the thin slats of the steel locker and tries not to feel like a pervert as Minho tugs off his shirt. Jisung guiltily squeezes his eyes shut.

But then he hears Minho pick up his drink, and Jisung’s eyes snap open to watch him with bated breath.

( _Oh my god, he’s still shirtless,_ Jisung’s mind screams.)

Minho unthinkingly opens the bottle, and Jisung rejoices as he brings it to his lips. But then Minho stops to take a whiff.

“What the heck?” He scrunches up his face. “Hyunjinnie, come smell this—“

Hyunjin’s familiar form obediently saunters up to Minho. He grips the bottle before bringing it to his nose. “What the—is this chili sauce?”

“Hm, I think so?” Minho scratches his head. “Weird. This was fine earlier. Maybe someone switched it out.”

“Who would even—“ Hyunjin’s mouth snaps shut. His head whips to the side, and, terrifyingly, makes eye contact with Jisung. “Oh my god…”

“Do you know who?”

Jisung vigorously shakes his head. _Please don’t,_ he mouths. _HYUNJIN._

“I have nothing to do with this,” says Hyunjin, and he swishes away to leave Minho even more confused than before. Jisung has to stay sweating in the cramped locker for another thirty minutes as Hyunjin effectively _and_ intentionally distracts everyone from actually getting changed. Just to, you know, make Jisung’s life harder.

Okay, so maybe attempt number one is a fail. But Jisung doesn’t let it discourage him. He formulates another plan as he’s cooking in Home Economics with Felix the next day.

Jisung still has several bottles of chili sauce in his backpack—just, you know, just in case he needs them—and he thinks he might be able to use them here.

He makes a few extra helpings of soup. They’re supposed to be handing these out, and the grade they get will be based on ratings that they get from passersby willing to try their cooking. Normally, putting an entire bottle of hot sauce in one serving to intentionally make someone suffer would be self-sabotage in the grades department, but Jisung—being the handsome, intelligent person that he is—finds a loophole in deciding he can just forgo asking Minho to rate him.

“Hey, Minho-hyung!” Jisung calls him after class. Jisung has five cups of soup on his tray to not look suspicious. The chili-sauced one has a stripe of green sharpie on it—Jisung wouldn’t miss it. Minho eyes his tray with interest.

“What’s up, Jisung?” Minho gives him a smile. Jisung gulps. They’re civil, now, but most times Jisung is so embarrassed about eighth grade that he pretends to have work to do whenever their mutual friends invite Minho to their get-togethers. It’s glaringly obvious that it’s mostly excuses, but who can really blame Jisung?

“Um, I’ve got some soup,” answers Jisung, intelligently like the intelligent boy that he is. “We have to give out free samples for Home Ec, would you mind trying one…?”

“Not at all,” Minho says, and he reaches out to take a cup.

“Can you get this one—yeah, that one,” Jisung says as he turns the tray a little. “Thanks, hyung!”

“Why this one?” Minho quirks a brow.

“Um! Secret—secret reasons!” Jisung squeaks. “Home Ec experiment?”

“They have experiments in Home Ec now?” comes a voice, and Jisung looks up to see Chan sling an arm over Minho’s shoulder. He ignores the pang in his chest.

“It’s, um, a new curriculum,” Jisung lies through his teeth. “Do you wanna participate?”

Chan shrugs. “Sure.”

“Just take—yes, thanks,” says Jisung. He tenses a little. He hopes Chan doesn’t realize it’s intentional when Jisung inevitably makes Minho suffer through his chili sauce soup. Jisung would hate to disappoint him. Chan and Minho both bring their cups to their lips, and then Jisung blanches.

Both cups have green sharpie marks, except the one on Minho’s cup falls off.

It’s not a sharpie mark.

Jisung watches in horror as a piece of diced green onion flutters off of the side of Minho’s cup and falls to the floor. _Minho didn’t pick the chili sauce cup._ If Minho _didn’t_ pick the chili sauce cup, then that means…

“Fuck—!“ Chan splutters, almost spilling chili sauce all over himself. His face turns immediately red as he flushes all over. _Oh no,_ Jisung thinks. _No, no, no!_

Chan almost slams the cup back down on Jisung’s tray and sprints toward the water fountain to swallow large gulps of water. Jisung watches, mortified, when Chan turns back to him with a forced smile.

“It tastes great, Jisung,” Chan manages in that tone that says _I’m only being nice so that I don’t embarrass you in front of your secret crush._ “Are they all like this?”

“No,” Jisung says weakly. “Just the one.”

“Mine tastes fine.” Minho shrugs, seemingly uncaring of Chan’s flustered visage. “You look good like that, Channie-hyung. You should have some more.”

Chan turns even redder, if possible, and Jisung malfunctions. He turns away without a word and speed walks back into the Home Economics lab to hide behind their moldy curtains. _I don’t have a crush on Minho-hyung anymore,_ he repeats to himself. _I don’t care._

Plan two? A failure for sure.

Several days pass and Jisung hasn’t come up with a new plan. He’s not sure if he has the mental capacity, to be honest.

“Give your single brain cell a rest,” Seungmin tells him, because Seungmin loses several years of his life every time he hears Hyunjin guffaw about Jisung’s latest failure. Or so he claims. Hyunjin, on the other hand, only wipes mirthful tears out of his eyes as he tells Jisung to keep going.

“Don’t you believe in love?” Hyunjin asks mockingly when Jisung says he doesn’t know if he can do this. “Come on, bro, you still gotta take me to Homecoming.”

“Cancel this immediately,” Seungmin says whenever they do this. But Jisung can’t. He can’t just stop now. He’s too invested. Jisung will get hot sauce in Minho’s mouth if it kills him.

The next plan he makes involves doughnuts. He knows this plan will straight-up expose him if it works, but Jisung has a workaround that he can exploit if it does. ( _Oh my god, hyung,_ he would say, _that was meant for Hyunjin!_ )

Jisung spends his Sunday afternoon baking and frying doughnuts in Felix’s kitchen. Only because Felix is the only friend actually willing to put chili sauce in a supposed jelly doughnut. _Crackhead culture_ , Jeongin calls it whenever they’re together.

(Felix doesn’t know what the hot sauce doughnuts are for, of course, but what he doesn’t know won’t kill him.)

Jisung brings them to school on Monday in a box with three identical normal doughnuts. He makes sure that he absolutely knows where each one is placed this time to avoid the mess that was Plan Two.

Luckily, he runs into Minho at one of the umbrella tables near the field at the start of the one vacant period that they have together—no, sorry, _at the same time,_ Jisung thinks, not together—and immediately goes in for the kill. He takes a seat and tries to trick Minho into taking his doughnuts.

(Read: tries.)

It almost goes well. Jisung bounds up to him with a rehearsed smile and Minho greets him in kind. “Morning, Jisung,” he says. “I like your sweater.”

Jisung blinks and looks down at himself. It’s a soft, pale pink thing, with a giant turtleneck and floppy sleeves. He’s only wearing it because he stayed the night and forgot to bring clothes. “Oh, this is Felix’s. But thanks.”

“Felix’s?” Minho frowns. “Oh…”

Jisung doesn’t notice the way the light in Minho’s eyes goes out. Or maybe he does, and maybe he forces himself into thinking he’s imagining it. Trick of the light, yes. That must be it. But that’s not related to his mission at all.

“Hyung, we made some doughnuts yesterday,” Jisung says as he pushes away his thoughts. “We made too many, so I was gonna give you one.”

Minho brightens. “Doughnuts?”

“Did someone say doughnuts?” comes a voice, disembodied behind Jisung. Jisung sighs as someone props their chin onto his head. Hyunjin.

“Jisung made doughnuts,” Minho says with a smile. “Want one?”

“Ooh, did you make these with Lix?” Hyunjin whispers conspiratorially, leaning over to grab a doughnut. A hot-sauced one, thank _fuck_. “Have fun at your little play-date?”

“Stop calling them play-dates,” Jisung grumbles. “We aren’t five.”

Minho’s smile fades as Hyunjin and Jisung continue to bicker. Jisung glances at him guiltily—it’s probably not fun to watch your dongsaengs argue when you’re eagerly waiting for a doughnut. Jisung shakes Hyunjin off and pushes the box toward Minho.

“Go on, hyung,” Jisung prompts, and Minho shamelessly grabs one with the most delighted smile. ( _Cute, wonderful, perfect,_ says Jisung’s brain. _I mean, what?_ )

Minho has the doughnut halfway to his mouth before he spots Jisung eyeing him intensely. He closes his mouth. _Damn it._

“You should have one, too, Jisung,” he says. “Let’s all have one.”

Jisung blanches. Hyunjin leaves his side so that he can sit next to Minho and shoot Jisung a shit-eating grin without getting caught, because the second all the color drained from Jisung’s face Hyunjin knew what was up. Shakily, Jisung takes a doughnut.

It _should_ be impossible for him to get the last hot-sauce doughnut. There _were_ three inside, but Hyunjin and Minho got the two of them. The chances of Jisung picking the exact bad egg should be miniscule.

...So _why_ is it that he’s the only one coughing and spluttering when they simultaneously munch on their doughy snacks?

“Oh my—oh my god!” Hyunjin guffaws. “You dumbass!”

“Jisung?” comes Minho’s worried voice. “Jisung, are you okay?”

“Hot—“ Jisung’s eyes water. “Too hot!”

“Hot?” A crease forms between Minho’s brows. “What do you mean, hot?”

“This dumbass, he—he tried to—“ Hyunjin tries to suppress his laughter. Jisung begs him with his tear-filled eyes. _Hoe, don’t do it,_ Jisung tries to convey. _Don’t you fucking dare!_

Hyunjin gives him one look before bursting into another fit of giggles. “This dumbass tried to trick me into eating a full ghost pepper and now it’s biting him in the ass because he didn’t have enough brain cells to restrain himself from telling me first.”

 _Okay, good boy, Hyunjin, for not telling the truth,_ Jisung thinks. _And fuck you, Hyunjin, for not telling the truth._

“That’s not very nice,” says Minho, but Jisung can see him trying to control himself from laughing and Jisung feels betrayed. Minho turns back to Jisung with real concern on his face. He bends down to dig through his bag. “Here, Jisung, take this—“

Jisung blinks back his tears as he holds a can of _something_ in his hands. _Strawberry milk,_ reads the title. He gives Minho a long, grateful look, before nearly tearing the can open and taking large gulps of the saccharine liquid. He goes through the whole can and sniffles as he puts it down.

Minho, to everyone’s total shock, pulls a paper towel from his bag and dabs at the corners of Jisung’s mouth. “There,” he says. “All clean, Sungie. Feeling better?”

Jisung makes a strangled noise. _Sungie_ , laments Jisung’s mind.

“Oh god, this is gross.” Hyunjin grimaces. “All right, I’m going to go and bother someone else. Miss me with that gay shit.”

“Hyunjin, you’re gay,” Jisung counters. “I don’t care how secret you think it is, everyone knows you’re literally dating—“

_“Goodbye!”_

Jisung watches him go. He’s almost afraid to look back at Minho.

And then he does, and he thinks, _holy shit_.

The soft light of the morning falls faintly over his dark locks and bathes his pale skin in an ethereal glow. How has Jisung never noticed the length of his eyelashes before, or the baby pink of his lips and cheeks when he smiles? His fingers are slight and delicate under his chin, and his eyes almost twinkle as they gaze at Jisung. It’s like someone installed a shoujo anime filter into his system.

Jisung eyes the can held loosely in his palm. What the _fuck_ is in this drink?

Essence of gay? Premium homosexuality powder?

Jisung didn’t think he could get any gayer. Turns out he was wrong, as he often is.

When he looks back up and hears Minho’s voice again, he decides that Plan Three is a failure.

Jisung doesn’t make any moves until four days before Homecoming. Because frankly, he’s panicking. With each passing day Minho’s hallway greetings and fleeting smiles get brighter and warmer and the thing budding in Jisung’s chest grows bigger. Deeper. More real. It’s atrocious. How is Jisung supposed to carry out his mission if only the sight of Minho is enough to force Jisung onto his knees?

Hyunjin, of course, won’t stop clowning him about it. They’re having lunch in the courtyard because Hyunjin being a Cool Kid grants them the Cool Kid Spot right in front of the fountain. Only Cool Kids eat out here, and Jisung thinks cliques are stupid, but the fountain is too cool too pass up. There are Koi underneath, okay? Cool shit.

(In addition, _Minho_ is a Cool Kid, and today he’s sitting with Woojin and Chan on the other side of the fountain. Not that this information matters to Jisung.)

“You’re never gonna take me to Homecoming,” Hyunjin says to him. “You can’t do it.”

“I never even wanted you specifically in the first place,” grumbles Jisung, because it’s true and Hyunjin is a piece of shit. Definitely _not_ the high school sweetheart that the popular kids think he is. Jisung only wanted to take him because Hyunjin said he could never.

“Are you giving up, then?” asks Seungmin. To any passerby his voice would have sounded flat and disinterested, but from all the years that Jisung has known him, Jisung understands that he’s more than delighted at the idea.

“No way,” Jisung says weakly. “I’m not giving up.”

“Why haven’t you made a move, then?” Hyunjin challenges. “Only four days to Homecoming, Sungie. I bet you don’t even have a plan.”

“I—I _do_ have a plan!”

“Sure you do.” Seungmin snorts, settling against Hyunjin’s side. Hyunjin happily hooks their arms together. “You’re going to walk around the fountain and straddle Minho-hyung, and then you’re going to feed him the hot sauce from your mouth as you make out.”

 _“Ewww,”_ Hyunjin says. “Seungmin, that’s gross. Jisung doesn’t have the balls.”

“You’re both jerks. I _totally_ have the balls,” Jisung insists. “In fact, I’m going to do that right now.”

Seunmin gives him a look. “Jisung.”

“Seungmin.”

Hyunjin perks up. “Hyunjin?”

“I’m going in,” says Jisung, ignoring Hyunjin and rising from his seat to dig Tabasco out from his backpack. It’s the only kind of hot sauce he’s going to be able to bear for this. He faces his two companions as he fills his whole mouth with Tabasco sauce. Seungmin looks like he craves death. Hyunjin looks like he’s going to cry.

“I don’t know a Han Jisung,” Seungmin murmurs, turning away even as Hyunjin bursts into silent giggles.

Jisung ignores their negativity and marches bravely to Minho’s table. He still has puffy cheeks from being filled with ( _slightlyburningit’skindoftorture_ ) Tabasco sauce, and the table’s three occupants look up at him curiously. Jisung braces himself.

“Hello, Jisungie.” Minho smiles warmly. He’s wearing a Versace hoodie, this time, and he looks so good, _oh god_ , with his strategically messy hair and his smoldering eyes and pink lips and cheeks and strong jawline and—holy shit.

Jisung wasn’t ready.

He spits the Tabasco sauce all over Minho’s Versace hoodie and the whole courtyard stills. The buzz of students chattering disappears and the hum of springtime birds quiets down. Jisung almost feels as if there’s nothing else in this world except him and Minho and Versace and the _fucking Tabasco sauce._

Chan whistles. “Didn’t see that coming.”

Plan Four? A disaster.

Jisung’s face loses all color as he sprints the fuck away and tries not to listen to the sound of Hyunjin guffawing in the distance.

The next few days are torture. Jisung tries to skip school several times but his mother hangs his barely passing Calculus grade over his head and Jisung forces himself to slink through the halls with his baseball cap drawn over his eyes and his hoodie zipped all the way up. Hyunjin has stopped laughing whenever he sees Jisung, but he’s resorted to back pats of mock pity and that’s almost worse.

What’s more is that Minho _doesn’t stop seeking him out_. Jisung doesn’t know why, but he’s too mortified to face Minho at all and he dashes away every time their eyes meet. Jisung avoids going out into open spaces and it drives everyone crazy.

It gets to the point where Hyunjin threatens to give Jisung’s address to Minho’s obsessive fans—if you can even call them that. What are they, groupies? Minho doesn’t bang them, Jisung’s sure. He’d know. Either way, Jisung doesn’t want to fuck with those guys.

So Jisung goes out to eat with them at the courtyard. Hyunjin reassures him multiple times that Minho won’t be having lunch there to ease Jisung’s frazzled mind, but Jisung still insists on his baseball cap and hoodie.

“Ugh,” Hyunjin groans. “You look like a hobo.”

“You dress like this at my house,” Jisung retorts.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” says Seungmin, and Hyunjin gives Jisung a smug smirk.

“I hate this already,” Jisung says. “Can’t I go back to having lunch with Lix and Changbin-hyung?”

“Have mercy on your wallet.” Hyunjin winces, knowing fully how much Changbin spends. “Unless you _want_ Changbin-hyung to be your sugar daddy.”

“Can this conversation stop being a thing?” Jisung sighs. “Why am I here?”

“I need to cheer you up,” Hyunjin says. “You’ve been so disgustingly pathetic these days.”

“My reputation is destroyed forever,” Jisung laments. “I’m moving to Antarctica.”

“See what I mean?” says Hyunjin. He unlatches himself from Seungmin and makes his way over to Jisung. “I need your full cooperation, Sungie. Close your eyes.”

‘What—why?” Jisung furrows his brows. “Hey!”

Hyunjin covers his eyes with his palms and doesn’t let go even when Jisung wipes a saliva-slick finger onto Hyunjin’s wrist. “Ew,” says Hyunjin, but he doesn’t relent.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jisung asks. “Seungmin, what’s going on?”

“I’m a neutral party,” Seungmin says. “You’re on your own.”

Jisung hears a chair scrape back, like Seungmin is getting up and leaving. He probably is, now that Jisung thinks about it. He doesn’t know what they’re doing this for. Jisung supposes he’ll just have to die at their hands.

And then palms settle over Jisung’s shoulders, and Jisung’s blood runs cold as he feels the courtyard start to still again. Hyunjin removes his hands. Jisung resists the urge to sock him in the face and bolt, because there _he_ is—

Lee Minho, staring down at Jisung with his disheveled black hair and his long, midnight lashes and his dark, dark eyes.

“Time for me to leave,” Hyunjin says, but Jisung doesn’t hear him. He only hears his own breath escaping his lungs and mingling with Minho’s in the small space that’s between them. _Twelve centimeters_ , Jisung counts. He wants to run but for some reason, he feels completely frozen.

“Jisungie,” Minho croons, voice smooth and heavy and totally unlike the way that Jisung is used to hearing it. “A little birdie told me something.”

A little birdie, Minho says, but Jisung is sure that little _shit_ is more accurate.

“What—what did you…” Jisung gulps. “What did you hear?”

“I heard that someone was trying to get me to swallow hot sauce.” Minho quirks his lips. “I also heard that someone was you.”

“O—oh.” Their foreheads touch. “Sorry, I’ll… stop…”

“I’m really confused, though, because Hyunjinnie said you were doing it so that you could take him to Homecoming…” Minho pouts. “But Hyunjinnie also said you were planning to do something to me. Something interesting. And you can’t have both, Sungie.”

Jisung’s breath hitches. “What did—what did Jinnie say I’d do?”

“This,” Minho says, and Jisung loses his shit.

Minho settles his legs on either side of Jisung and straddles him, right there—right in the courtyard, for everyone to see, and Jisung is pretty sure that his heart has stopped beating. Is he dead, now? He hopes he’s dead, because this boy sitting on top of him definitely looks like an angel. Maybe Jisung is in heaven. Minho brings his fingers to Jisung’s cheeks and suddenly Jisung is sure.

 _Yes, okay_ , he tells himself. _You’re dead._

“Choose, Jisungie,” Minho purrs, brushing Jisung’s cheekbone. “Chili sauce, or me?”

“Fuck,” Jisung breathes. “You, holy shit.”

“Good choice,” Minho murmurs, but Jisung doesn’t get to dwell on it before Minho presses their lips together and catcalls fill the air as Jisung snakes his arms around Minho and reciprocates and—fuck Hyunjin, Jisung is taking Minho to Homecoming instead.

(He doesn’t.)

Inevitably, they both get suspended by school officials for indecent public behavior and neither of them get to come to Homecoming anyway, so it doesn’t really matter. Instead they sneak out of their houses that night and, really, it’s the opposite of good behavior, but Minho takes Jisung to a clearing in the middle of the woods and they blast songs from _Grease_ loudly through the speakers of Minho’s beat-up truck and Jisung can’t believe how cliché it all feels. Neither of them can even understand the songs they’re listening to—not fully, anyway, Jisung hasn’t spoken in straight English for years—but it still manages to feel special.

They dance together and they laugh and it’s almost as if they’re at Homecoming, but it’s better. Definitely better.

Jisung looks up. He sees moonlight in Minho’s hair, in his clothes, in his eyes. Jisung looks up and he finally, finally notices what Minho is wearing.

“This is…” Jisung gapes. “Hyung, this is the Gucci sweater I ruined in eighth grade.”

“Aw, you remembered,” Minho coos, nuzzling their noses together.

“Oh my god, hyung, what the hell,” Jisung whimpers. “Why would you wear this? Look at it—the chili sauce destroyed it.”

“I thought it was special.” Minho grins. “Come over and I’ll give you the Versace one. Couple shirts.”

“Hyung, oh my god.” Jisung flushes. “I’m only eighteen.”

Minho makes a face. “Sungie, you’re so dirty. I wasn’t trying to imply anything.”

Jisung frowns. Minho kisses him to make him stop talking. When they separate, Jisung closes his eyes for a long time.

“Honestly, what the hell,” he murmurs. “How did I end up here?”

“It was the chili sauce,” Minho giggles. “Everyone say thank you, chili sauce!”

“Can you stop? I’m getting flashbacks,” Jisung whines.

“The second you spilled chili sauce all over my Gucci sweater when I was fifteen I knew,” Minho sighs. “You were the one.”

Jisung squirms. “You’re so embarrassing. I wasn’t even that into you in eighth grade!”

“Liar,” says Minho. “Chan-hyung told me I was your lockscreen for six months.”

“I—I hate all of you,” Jisung says weakly. “Can I take everything back? I actually like chili sauce more than you.”

“Too late, you’re stuck with me now,” says Minho. “And for the record, you were my lockscreen, too.”

Jisung hits him. “Why didn’t you make a move earlier then?”

“Did you _let_ me?” Minho quirks a brow. Jisung ducks his head. “That’s what I thought.”

“You still… dated Chan-hyung, though,” Jisung murmurs. “Why’d you… do that? You knew, didn’t you?”

“A growing boy like me can get tired of waiting around, you know?” Minho says, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “It wasn’t that serious. I wasn’t serious about him, and he wasn’t serious about me. It’s why we’re still friends.”

“How about me, then?” Jisung asks. “Are you serious about me?”

“Definitely serious,” Minho confirms. “I got suspended for you. For the first time in my life.”

“Romantic,” Jisung snorts. “Sorry I made you wait so long.”

Minho kisses his eyebrow. “It’s alright now, Jisungie. It only took you three years and a suspension for indecent behavior to get us together.”

“You shut your mouth,” Jisung yawns. Minho coos, brushing away Jisung’s hair. His palms are soft.

“You sleepy now, jagiya?” he asks. “We can go back.”

“Can we sleep here? Saw a blanket in your truck.”

“Your mother will kill me.”

“I’ll call her, she’ll understand.” Jisung yawns again. “’M really sleepy.”

“ _My_ mother will kill me,” Minho laughs. “If you’re that sleepy, we can go home. I’ll take you.”

Too tired to argue, Jisung concedes. He lets Minho stroke his hair as they trudge back toward the truck. Minho tosses him the blanket before he starts the engine and, to Jisung’s sleepy delight, laces his free hand together with Jisung’s.

He watches the stars pass them by and he can almost see them in Minho’s eyes when Jisung looks over at him. He’s so, so beautiful, Jisung thinks.

Who knew that the perfect bait for a cute boy was chili sauce?

**Author's Note:**

> i dont even like using chili sauce im a fraud
> 
> please pray for my grades and my sleep schedule
> 
> EDIT: FORGOT TO MENTION i got a twt since some people were asking. im @salipavvpavv on twt!!! there's not much on it rn bc im tired. come and harass me about fics im supposed to be writing but am not! in the future i'll be posting about my progress on future fics if my twt gets attention. thanks yall!!


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